


Still Cold Heart

by TauriCXIV



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Animal Death, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Blood, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual Memory Tampering, Temporary Character Death, Violence, hurt noct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 15:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17531723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TauriCXIV/pseuds/TauriCXIV
Summary: Bad Things Happen Bingo: Came Back Wrong“You are a clever boy, aren’t you? There will be a cost, I’m sure you know. It may be more than you bargained for.”“Whatever the price, I will pay it.”Ignis loves Noctis too much to let him go.





	Still Cold Heart

Ignis was lucky to have made it out of the Citadel with his head. If the king had caught him Ignis had no doubt he would have brought the full fury of the Lucii down upon him. He had no one else to take his grief out on, after all. But Ignis had made it to the sepulchre and then to the stables to abscond with the prince’s prized black chocobo and the single most precious thing in all of Eos.

The ride had taken days but Ignis didn’t dare stop for longer than a few hours. The fear of the being thwarted by the crownsguard or ambushed by bandits was too great. So Ignis ate and drank on the move and when he was forced to stop for rest he kept the firelight low. His cargo, wrapped in fine black and gold silk, was always within reach, and Ignis would find himself running his fingers over the fabric and getting lost in thought.

The black chocobo, the beautiful and loyal creature it was, would tilt its head and kweh softly at it. The first night, Ignis had restrained the bird to keep her from tearing at the silks to reach what was cocooned within.

It was midday and the sky was a blank canvas of featureless clouds when he arrived. The forest grew thick with towering trees. Yet, he had not heard a single insect chirp nor bird sing. Now and then Ignis glimpsed enormous, half-buried statues with long spider-like limbs and inhuman faces. The harsh light blinded him when he looked up and highlighted every imperfection in the temple’s facade. Ignis had memorized the marks from the tome he’d found buried deep the archives of the Citadel. The marks of ancient Solheim and the great power contained within.

_So very close, now._

The black chocobo stomped her foot pulled away refused to enter the temple proper.

“Easy, girl. Easy,” Ignis said, patting the side of her neck. “I need you to trust me, just a bit longer.” The chocobo kwehed with displeasure but did as Ignis asked. He kept one hand on the reins and with the other cradled his precious cargo to his chest

Inside was cold and dark. The chocobo’s steps echoed off the walls and deep into the twisting cavernous chambers of the temple. The heart of the temple was illuminated by a large sun window at the highest point

At the center stood the altar.

Ignis slipped from the back of the chocobo and eased the silk-wrapped form down into his arms. Ignis held him tight and whispered, “Don’t worry, Noct. I’m going to save you.

The day Noctis died had been like a terrible dream he could not escape from. The prince, once so vibrant and full of life, had succumbed to the same devastating illness that had claimed the queen when he was a babe. All of Lucis fell into mourning. The king had shut himself away with the body of his only son, allowing no one entry, save the priests to say their prayers.

Ignis had turned to solitude as well. He spent days holed up in his chambers, unable to face a world without Noctis in it. He had been content to waste away there when he awoke in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and the echo of a myth singing through his mind.

_The Healer King._

Ignis placed Noctis upon the altar with great care and removed the silk obscuring his form. Noctis was as beautiful as he always had been, dressed in the blacks and golds of Lucian funeral garb. His skin, though pale, was unblemished. The spell cast over him by the priests would hold back the ravages of time for decades, preserving him as he had been in life. Ignis caressed his cheek. It was cold.

“Such beauty,” a voice sounded from the dark.

Ignis spun on his heel, searching for the source of the voice. A heavy presence materialized behind him, at the altar. He turned and found a tall figure, adorned in ceremonial robes, leaning over Noctis, a hand caressing his cheek. “Sweet young thing, taken too soon. A tragedy for the ages.”

Ignis’ hackles raised, but Ignis couldn’t very well draw his daggers on an immortal. Not when Noctis’ life was on the line. “You are the Healer King?”

The man did not acknowledge Ignis immediately. The king of old continued to stare down at Noctis’ face as if mesmerized. Finally, he tore his gaze away and leveled it at Ignis.

“That is a name they called me, once. Though there were many others after it.”

“I’ve come to strike a bargain.”

“No doubt. I didn’t think you brought me this lovely corpse so I could watch it rot.”

Ignis flinched.

“You want him back. But why I wonder? What is he to you? Your brother? Friend? Lover?”

Ignis didn’t think he’d reacted, but the ancient king smiled. “Lover. Your love was taken from you so you crossed deserts and forests, risked life and limb to return him to your side. How romantic. Were I a poet I would write an ode.”

Ignis pushed on. “You _can_ bring him back. That is why you are here, is it not? You trespassed on the domain of the gods and upset the balance of life and death. You have the power to return a soul to this world.”

“Hmm. As you say.”

“They also say you never turned away those who begged your aid.” Ignis sank to his knees. Head bowed. “Your Majesty, I beg of you. Please, restore Noctis’ life.”

The king tilted his head. “You are a clever boy, aren’t you? There will be a cost, I’m sure you know. It may be more than you bargained for.”

“Whatever the price, I will pay it.” Even if the cost was his own life, he would give it

The king’s lips curled, and Ignis felt he had said something wrong. “I’ve no doubt you would. The price is simply this; a life for a life. A perfectly fair trade.”

Ignis closed his eyes and exhaled. As he thought. It made sense that bringing back one soul would require the sacrifice of another. Ignis didn’t care. He had no one in this world save Noctis, but Noctis had his father and a kingdom that depended on him. His life was worth far more than Ignis’. Still, the knowledge that he would lose Noctis once more pained him greatly. He hoped Noctis would forgive him when he woke. Unlikely, he thought with a wry smile. Noctis could be quite petulant when it suited him.

“May I say goodbye first?”

“Not _now_ , dear boy! I’m not so cruel as to deprive you of your beloved. No, I will collect my prize later. For now, you may take your love and return home and enjoy many long years together. My gift to you.”

When Noctis took that first gasping breath, Ignis sobbed, his tears flowing freely and dripping onto Noctis’ hand clutched tightly between his own. It was warm.

* * *

They arrived at the city in the evening. Noctis at his back, his arms tight around Ignis’ waist as they rode. They were met with spears at the gates. The guards had orders to arrest Ignis on sight for his heinous trespasses, but the instant they noticed their prince, they fell to their knees.

Word was sent to the king who hobbled down the steps of the Citadel so quickly he dropped his cane. King Regis seized his son by the shoulders, then held Noctis’ head in his hands and looked him over like a man who had been denied the glory of daylight all his life. The king pulled him into a fierce hug which Noctis returned.

Ignis stood off to the side, head bowed to allow father and son the illusion of privacy. Still, he heard the king whisper, “I do not know by what miracle you stand now before me, but I am grateful for it.”

An ancient spell, Ignis told the king when he asked how he had done it. He’d found it in one of the old tomes in the royal library. He hadn’t known if it would work—if the magic was still potent enough after thousands of years, but he had been desperate. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. He had indeed learned of the Healer King in the few passages that had not been stricken from ancient texts, but King Regis did not need to know that, nor did the king care to, from how he did not press Ignis. He did not want to delve too deeply for fear of undoing the miracle of his son’s resurrection, Ignis thought.

Noctis did not remember his death, which they all counted as a blessing. The king passed a decree that forbade any from speaking of it. Noctis’ brief passing was erased from history.

Ignis made arrangements for the inevitable day the ancient king came to collect on his price. He wrote a letter explaining his actions to Noctis and sealed it away until it was time. Until then, he was content to live at Noctis’ side. For however long or short that would be.

Days turned into weeks and slowly life in the palace returned to normal. Noctis was as he had always been, mischievous, exuberant, caring…beautiful. He would catch Ignis off guard in the corridors of the palace and wrap his arms around his waist. Then, with a whisper that made Ignis blush, he’d drag him behind one of the many marble pillars and away from any prying eyes.

A year later, Noctis was just as incorrigible as ever when he led Ignis into his chambers. Ignis nearly tripped over Noctis’ far too affectionate cat when it wound itself between his legs. Noctis caught him and they both stumbled into the bedroom, limbs tangled and laughing.

Noctis pushed him down on the bed and settled atop his thighs. Ignis held him at the waist as Noctis ran his fingers through his hair and pressed fervent kisses to his neck. Ignis let his hands roamed over Noctis’ body before they slipped under the fine brocaded fabric. His skin was warm and soft, and Ignis felt the fluttering of his heart in his chest.

When they were done Ignis felt a pleasant ache settling in his muscles, the kind that usually came from a particularly satisfying sparring match. An apt comparison, Ignis thought, being with Noctis was like a battle. His every move was matched with equal vigor. Noctis rested his head on Ignis’ chest, a contented smile on his lips. Their clothes were scattered across the floor

It was moments like these that made him eternally grateful to the healer king. Ignis knew any day the king would take his life, but the ancient had gifted him this time with Noctis and Ignis would not waste it. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of Noctis’ hair. He drifted off with thoughts of how very deeply he loved the man in his arms.

* * *

Ignis woke suddenly. He lay still, eyes blinking up at the sheer canopy of the bed. What had woke him? Was it a voice? Someone shouting his name? He felt echoes of it in his chest, but as he lay unmoving, there were no other noises. No guards burst through the doors, swords drawn, to protect their prince.

Ignis was suddenly cold. He reached for Noctis, seeking out his warmth, but his fingers found only empty space beside him. He bolted upright.

He felt a rush of fear that it had all been a dream. That Noctis was still sealed in the sepulchre, cold and lifeless where Ignis could never reach him. The fear chilled his bones until he saw his clothes scatter on the floor, the floor of Noctis’ bedchamber. Noctis’ own clothes were missing. Noctis was alive, he just wasn’t in bed.

Ignis stood, quickly dressed and walked out into the antechamber. His feet were cold against the stone tile. The candles had all been put out before their…activities. The only light was the pale glow of the moon through the window lattice. It was enough to spot Noctis’ dark form sitting on the floor.

His back was to Ignis, his pet cat’s fluffy white-grey tail peeking out from his lap. He looked tense. He had a slight tremor like his muscles had been strained for a long time.

“Noct? What are you doing up?” Ignis stepped forward and his breath caught.

The pale light illuminated Noctis’ hands, covered in blood from dozens of deep scratches, were clenched tight around his beloved pet’s neck. The cat was limp—its mouth hung open and its eyes were rolled back in its head. Judging from the blood dried on Noctis’ hands, it had been dead for a while.

Shock kept Ignis frozen.

“It wouldn’t stop watching me,” Noctis whispered. “Eyes in the dark are always watching. I just wanted it to stop.”

Ignis swallowed something bitter. “That’s– It’s alright.” He knelt beside Noctis and carefully pried his fingers away from the cats’ neck. “Let’s get you off the cold floor.”

Ignis led Noctis to the bed, careful wrapping a cloth around his ruined hands. The body of the cat was left on the floor—a floor streaked with blood. He would have to dispose of it later. For now, his focus was on Noctis. His prince had a vacant look to him like he wasn’t fully awake, and he kept staring directly ahead

“Hold this here, I will get a water basin to clean you up.”

He didn’t acknowledge when Ignis returned and dabbed a wet towel to the cuts on his arm.

It didn’t make sense. Noctis loved that cat, he’d rescued it as a tiny, starving kitten. Noctis’ kindness towards animals was something that endeared him to many of his subjects. Ignis would never have believed he would harm the feline had he not seen it himself.

“Ignis?” Noctis said in a quiet breath. His voice so delicate that Ignis wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t at his side. “Are you here?”

Noctis was looking right at him. His blue eyes were wide and locked with Ignis’, but somehow he was doubting Ignis’ presence. “Yes, Highness. I’m here.”

“…are you real?”

Ignis let out a distressed sound. “Noct, of course.”

Noctis gave a short nod. “I’m tired. So so tired.”

“Come then, we’ll get you to bed. You may rest as long as you wish.”

“Rest? Yes. I would like to rest.”

Noctis allowed Igins to lay him down on the bed. His hands rested on his chest. His eyes slid shut and he breath fell into a steady rhythm almost instantly. The would have to be changed soon. Ignis could already see blotches of red seeping into the weave. His own hands were shaking.

Across the room, Noctis’ beloved cat lay with its head bent at an unnatural angle, and it’s fur wet with Noctis’ blood.

Ignis didn’t leave Noctis’ side until he was certain the prince was deep asleep. Then he rushed to find the night guard patrolling the hall. The man placed a hand on the hilt of his sword until Ignis neared enough to be seen in the torchlight.

“My Lord,” The guard said removing his hand from his weapon.

“Wake the royal physician. His Highness is injured.”

The guard’s eyes snapped towards Noctis’ chambers. “Has he been attacked?”

“No. He is in no danger, but his wound needs tending to. Bring the physician. I will stay with His Highness.”

The guard returned a short time later with the physician, a white-haired man with a slight wobble to his walk. He was still dressed in night robes but Ignis didn’t hold it against him. Noctis didn’t stir while the man gingerly removed Ignis’ amateur bandage work. The cuts were still fresh and bleeding sluggishly.

“The prince’s cat did this?” asked the man with evident shock.

“Yes. It went feral suddenly.” It wouldn’t do to tell him that Noctis had wrung the poor creature’s neck while it tried to claw itself free.

The corners of the man’s mouth pulled down, but he said nothing. Either he believed Ignis or he knew better than to question his account. The physician ordered the guard not to dispose of the feline, claiming he would need to examine it for any disease it may have passed on to the prince. He set forth to cleaning and redressing Noctis’ wounds. Noctis slept through it all.

That night was but the first in a series of inexplicable changes in Noctis’ behavior. Next came the morning.

* * *

Ignis was exhausted. He had gotten hardly a wink of sleep. The question of what had could have possessed Noctis to hurt his pet had his brain churning like the dark turbulent ocean during a storm. The evidence of the crime was staring Ignis in the face almost mockingly. The bandages around his hands were dark and would need to be replaced.

Noctis was still asleep when he stepped out to freshen his appearance and change his clothes. When he returned he found Noctis standing at the window and looking out through the intricate latticework. His posture was rigid, just as he had been in the night, and Ignis was instantly set on edge.

“Noct,” he called softly, afraid of startling his prince.

Noctis made a noise like he was choking. Ignis was at his side instantly. Tears were streaming down Noctis face. His eyes were locked on the scene outside the window. Ignis glanced down to find what distressed him so but found only the early light of dawn creeping over the city. 

“Noct,” he tried again.

“It’s so beautiful,” Noctis said, breathless.

“Noctis, look at me, please.” Noctis did, slowly. Wide eyes turned to meet Ignis, red and puffy from crying. Ignis reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek

“Was it always this beautiful?

“Insomnia is the jewel of Eos,” Ignis recited automatically

Noctis shook his head. “Not the city. The sun.”

Ignis didn’t know what to say to that so he settled for, “You should be in bed, Noct.”

He wrapped his arms around Noctis’ shoulders. Noctis’ gaze returned to the city below, but he allowed Ignis to lead him back to the bed. He sat straight-backed against the headboard and strained his neck watch the sunrise.

It should have been a sign. Ignis should have known something was terribly wrong with Noctis, but he had convinced himself it was nothing. He was fine, Ignis told himself. It wasn’t so strange to be caught by surprise by the beauty of the world around oneself.

He could not be so dismissive of what occurred next. The knock that roused him from his placating thoughts was not the servant bringing breakfast as he might have expected. The _click-step-click_ of someone walking with a cane informed Ignis exactly who it was before he even set eyes on him.

“Your Majesty,” Ignis said, head bowed.

“Ignis,” King Regis greeted, almost absently. Behind the king was the royal physician. The king brushed past him and made his way to the bed where Noctis was still straining to look out the window and catch sight of the sun, it was easier now that it had risen higher over the horizon.

“Noct,” King Regis said, reaching a gentle hand to skim over his bandages. It was only at his touch that the spell over Noctis broke. He jumped and yanked his hands away. He turned wild eyes to his father. Then froze. For a moment father and son simply stared at one another. Then Regis started talking, “My son, what happened to your hands?”

The look that fell upon Noctis’ features could only be called pure horror. He scrambled out of bed away from his father.

“Noct?” King Regis said, bemused like he was trying to decipher what game his son was playing now.

Noctis backed away until he collided with the wall. “No. No, please don’t do this. Not again. Don’t make me watch it again!” He squeezed his eyes shut and clawed at his own arms, his fingernails digging at exposed skin and tearing at the bandages. Ignis could see bright red begin to bloom. He’d reopened his cuts.

“NOCTIS! Cease this at once!” Regis grabbed for Noctis’ arms. The prince cried out.

“Noct!” Ignis ran to his prince, but Noctis was crawling away from him, his hands raised in defense. The sight of his prince in the throes of such fear made him sick.

“Don’t! Please. Not again. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“What is wrong with him?” the king demanded of the physician.

“I– I’m uncertain, Sire.”

Ignis ignored them and his own roiling stomach. “Noct, it’s me. Please, look at me.” Noctis shook his head kept his eyes shut tight. This was no good. Ignis could not reach him, not while he was so distressed. “What are you sorry for?”

“I killed the monster. Now I’m being punished,” he sobbed. “I’m sorry. Please don’t kill my father again.”

The occupants of the room all stilled.

“I’m am not dead, son,” King Regis said, baffled, but his words did not reach him.

“Sire,” Ignis said, turning to the pale-faced king. “I– I believe Prince Noctis has had some terrible nightmare and is having some difficulty distinguishing dreams from reality at the moment. It may be best for him if you were…,” Ignis struggled for appropriate wording. How do you tell a king to leave? “Not present… until he has calmed down.”

King Regis’ looked furious but then he glanced back at Noctis’ huddled and distraught form and gave a sigh. “Very well. I want to be informed the moment my son has recovered from this _nightmare_.”

Ignis bowed, “Of course, Sire.” But cruel voice whispered in his ear, this was no nightmare and Noctis would not recover.

* * *

Servants brought food and clean clothes. Ignis stayed close by and watched Noctis’ mood change. He felt a heavy dread build as the frown on Noctis’ face grew. Noctis flashed an irritated look at everyone who came near. The tipping point came when Ignis tried to convince Noctis to eat.

Noctis was never very good at going hungry. His meals were always regular and hardy. An empty stomach should have had him groaning in misery, but Noctis had ignored the tray of savory meat and fresh fruits entirely.

Ignis held the tray for him, trying to coax him to eat something—Noctis’ reacted by violently knocking the tray from Ignis’ hands.

Everyone froze. Ignis stared at the food scattered across the floor. Noctis turned away.

“My Lord?” someone said, one of the servants most likely, Ignis wasn’t paying attention enough to tell.

“Clean this up. I will... find something more to His Highness’ liking.”

He walked stiffly out of the chambers and down the hall. When he was sure he was out of sight of the guard stationed outside Noctis’ quarters, he leaned against a pillar and allowed his shoulders to sag. He ran a hand over his face. Something was terribly wrong with Noctis and Ignis had no idea what it was or how to fix it.

“Iggy.”

The voice pulled him from his thoughts. Ignis turned to find Gladiolus, the Prince’s Shield in full regalia marching towards him. His greatsword strapped to his back. Ignis straightened his posture.

“Gladio,” he greeted, curtly. If he wasn’t mistaken, Gladio ordinarily spent this hour on the training grounds. For him to be here now, and dressed as he was, he would have had to be sent by the king himself.

“Where’re you off to?”

“The kitchens.”

“What’s this about Noct having nightmares?” Gladio asked as he came to stand beside Ignis. He looked over Ignis’ shoulder as if he could glean something from the empty corridor behind him.

“It’s just that. He had a nightmare and was a bit confused.”

“So he doesn’t think King Regis is a walking corpse anymore?”

Ignis flinched. That was not what Noctis had said, but he wasn’t going to correct him on the matter. “I haven’t asked him that particular question. I didn’t want to distress him again.”

“Mhmm. And his cat—the fluffy one he was always cuddling with; it just decided to go mad and claw him up?

“Correct.” Gladio crossed his arms and stared at Ignis. “Was there something else, or were you going to report to your liege now?”

“You’re a smart guy, Iggy, but when it comes to Noct you can be pretty stupid.”

“And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?

Gladio shrugged as if his words were just as much a mystery to himself. “Just don’t be stupid. Anyway, the king wants me with Noct.” Then he turned around and headed down the corridor to take up his station.

* * *

When Ignis returned, but Noctis was not where he had left him. He felt a brief spike of panic until he caught sight of movement on the balcony through the window. Noctis was sitting in a chair pulled as close to the railing as possible. Gladio was at his side, talking softly to Noctis, but Ignis could not make out the words. Regardless, Noctis didn’t appear to be listening. His full attention was trained on the view in front of him.

Noctis did not eat anything Ignis had brought, either. Ignis attempted to converse with him. He tried everything from the current political climate, to recalling epic tales of Galahdian pirates. Nothing seemed to reach Noctis.

It pained him, but finally, Ignis gave up his attempts. Ignis wanted nothing more than to attend to Noctis, but he still had work to do. He’d brought the many scrolls he was meant to look over into Noctis’ chambers. Gladio was quiet, but his presence was looming. Every move Ignis made he could feel Gladio watching him.

Ignis unrolled the first of many scrolls—a report of the kingdom’s grain stores compared to the previous year’s. It made for dull reading and Ignis was already exhausted from a night of little sleep. He found himself reading the same droning lines over and over without comprehending them.

“Damn it all,” Ignis cursed.

“Something wrong?” Gladio asked from his place at Noctis’ side.

Ignis rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Nothing. I’ve merely discovered the single most dreadful writer to ever put quill to parchment.”

Gladio hummed. “You should get some rest. You look like you need it.”

Ignis bit his lip. He looked over to Noctis who had not moved at all. Ignis sighed. “I think you might be right about that.”

* * *

_Ignis stood in a wide, dark space. A cold wind whipped at his skin and pulled his clothes. He followed after it. Each step drew him deeper into the darkness. He could see no walls, but he felt them closing in. His heart hammered in his chest. The walls were so tight around him, but he still couldn’t see anything._

_Ignis broke into a run. He was running after something—something that was just out of his reach, slipping away. He stretched a hand out to grab for it._

_His hand hit a wall._

_“A life for a life,” whispered the wind._

“IGNIS!”

Ignis woke to a loud pounding against his door. He lay there a moment, taking in his humble bedchamber with neatly stacked scrolls on the corner desk. He sat up and noticed his cheek wet from tears.

There was another loud knock on his door. He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his robes before he opened the door. A young page stood before him.

“My Lord, Shield Amicitia requests your presence at once,” said the boy without preamble.

“Which Shield Amicitia?”

The boy blinked. “The prince’s shield, my Lord.”

The boy led him down the familiar path to Noctis’ chambers. Each step set him more and more on edge. When they neared he sent the boy away, he knew where he was going.

There were far too many people outside the prince’s chambers. A horrible weight was settling in his stomach. Oh gods, was that _blood_ splattered on the wall? One of the guards raised a hand at his approach.

“We are under orders not to allow anyone beyond this point.”

“I am Advisor to His Highness. Let me pass.” The guard did not move, but he did turn to another and whispered something. The second guard ducked inside the room. Ignis was left to wait, staring down the man dressed in ornate Crownsguard armor, armor that was dotted with drying red liquid.

Ignis waited, heart hammering in his chest until Gladio appeared. His face was pale and serious.

“Ignis,” he said and steered him away from the guards.

“Gladio, what’s happened? Is Noct alright?”

“He’s not hurt.” That didn’t mean much. Something terrible had happened, that much was painfully apparent. “I was concerned. The kid wasn’t eating anything and you know that’s not like him, not unless it’s vegetables. So I called the physician and… He said Noct might be sick.”

Ignis felt a chill run up his spine at the familiarity of those words. One look at Gladio’s downturned lips confirmed he felt the same. Noctis did not remember, and the kingdom was sworn to silence, but it was only a year ago that they had been told their prince was ill and would soon perish.

Gladio ran a hand through his hair. “Dunno what set him off. One second he was fine, just kind of out of it. Then he got really agitated—started screaming about shadows and false faces. He ran out of the room.

“Ignis, he attacked a servant.”

  _“What?”_

 Gladio nodded grimly. “Poor girl. Didn’t stand a chance.”

 Ignis swallowed. “How– how bad?”

“Bad. We got him restrained before—well, you’ve sparred with Noct, you know what he’s capable of. This wasn’t sparring though, it wasn’t even combat. He was feral."

“Gods.”

The door to Noctis’ chambers opened and out stepped King Regis. His face as weathered as Ignis had ever seen it. He caught sight of them and walked to meet them, the click of his cane sounded more like a crack of thunder.

 Ignis and Gladio bowed at his approach.

 “My son has taken ill,” the king said to Ignis when he straightened. The king’s wrinkled hands gripped his cane. “He is not permitted visitors, but I will inform him that you stopped by. I’m sure it will be a great comfort to him.”

 “Majesty…” Ignis began floundering. “If I might have only a moment to speak with His Highness.”

 “Ignis, your deep affection for my son is no secret. However, unless you have more light you can shed on the situation…” The king stared at him, green eyes narrowed examining his every muscle twitch.

 Ignis felt breathless. What could he possibly say? He didn’t know what was happening. It didn’t make sense. “I am afraid not, Sire.”

 “Hmm, then you are dismissed. Gladiolus, I want you at my son’s side until further notice.”

 Ignis bowed.

 “Majesty, might I have a moment with Ignis, before I return to duty?” asked Gladio.

 “A moment,” the king said, then turned his back and retreated inside his son’s chambers. Gladio waited until the king was gone before he turned accusing eyes on Ignis.

 “You’re still not gonna fess up?”

 “Pardon?”

 “Don’t bullshit me, Iggy,” Gladio hissed. “If anyone knows what’s actually going on here, it’s you.”

 “I don’t know what you are implying–”

  _“Noct was dead.”_

 Ignis inhaled sharply. “You know you can’t–”

Gladio cut him off a second time. “He was dead and then you brought him back like it never happened. Now weird shit is happening with Noct and I’m supposed to pretend like there isn’t a connection.”

Ignis stood straighter. “Gladio. I appreciate your concern for Noct,” Gladio’s lips twitched as if trying to contain a growl, “but whatever you think you know, I assure you, you do not. How I… _brought him back_ has nothing to do with what has occurred. It can’t.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because the price was _mine_ to pay.”

They stared at each other for a long while. Then Gladio’s eyes narrowed, “I don’t know a lot about magic, but I know Noct, and I know this isn’t him. Whatever you did, whatever price it cost, it damn well better not have involved him. As his Shield, I’m sworn to protect him from whatever or whoever might cause him harm.”

“Are you threatening me, Gladiolus?”

“I sure as hell hope not, Ignis.”

Without a word, Ignis turned his back on Gladio and walked away.

* * *

The royal archives were off limits to everyone save a limited few. Ignis was not one of those few. That had not stopped him a year ago when he scoured the records in desperation and it did not stop him now as he slipped past the archivist lightly dozing at the desk. He remembered the tome that held the scattered hints of the ancient king. Removing the chains that held the book to the shelf was not easy without the key, but Ignis had developed many unique talents.

Ignis returned to his chambers with the tome in hand. He didn’t know what he wanted to find there, an assurance that Noctis’ radical change was not his fault…or the alternative.

He tore through the pages, squinting at the elegant script under the flickering candlelight. It was no different from the last time he had read them. Through the stricken passages he found reference to a great king of yore with the power mend any injury and cure any ailment—even death.

The king was beloved by the people and they called him the Healer King. However, the gods became jealous that the people turned to a mortal instead, and the king was cursed. Trapped within his temple unable to pass on. The people of Lucis begged forgiveness from the gods and the Healer King was erased of history.

And that was all that was written.

It didn’t make sense. It was Ignis’ life he’d traded, not Noctis’ sanity, not his kindness, not his gentleness. So _why?_

Ignis sighed.

There was one line, hastily scribbled out in black ink, that caught his eye. Ignis could just barely make out one word.

 _Accursed_.

The word gave him pause. Ignis flipped back through the pages he had read. Nowhere did it say the Healer King bargained for the lives he saved.

“That looks dull.” Ignis slammed the book shut. He looked up to find Noctis smiling at him while closing the chamber door behind him. He looked almost normal, but there were dark circles under his eyes.

“What are you doing here, Noct? You should be resting in your chambers.

“I’ve been _resting_ all day,” Noctis said as he neared. “I’m not some pretty little songbird, I don’t like being caged up. So I left. And came to find you.” Noctis placed his hands—unbound and covered in angry red lines—on Ignis’ chest. Noctis trailed them up to loop around his neck. “It feels like forever since we’ve been alone.”

He leaned in and nipped at Ignis’ lips. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

 _“Noct,”_ Ignis gasped. Then Noctis was kissing him. His fingers pulled at his neck, deepening the kiss. Ignis’ hands found their place on his hips. Gods, but he had missed Noctis, too.

“Gah!” Ignis cried out and pulled away. Noctis had bitten him. Not a playful nip or a scrape of teeth, a bite full of teeth.

Noctis did not apologize. He pursued Ignis, pressing his mouth against the spot. He swiped his tongue over it then sank his teeth in again. Ignis yelped again and tried once more to pull away, but Noctis wrapped one hand around the back of his neck and the other around Ignis’ wrist. His grip was tight and his nails dug into his skin painfully. Ignis recalled the image of those hands wrapped around a lifeless feline.

“Stop it! Let go!” Noctis did not budge.

This was not Noctis. Noctis was never cruel in his affection. His combative way was playful and stopped the instant he sensed his partner was not enjoying it. He would never do this to Ignis—to anyone. So Ignis only felt a slight pang of guilt when shoved him away. Noctis fell to the floor.

Noctis lay there in a heap, unmoving.

“Noct?”

Noctis let out a shuddered sob from where he lay. “How could you? I trusted you more than anyone. I loved you, Ignis. How could you abandon me like that?” He whipped his head up and glared at Ignis, eyes burning, teeth bared in a primal fury. “You betrayed me, Ignis. You left me alone!”

Noctis got to his feet and drew a dagger from his belt. There was blood on the blade.

Ignis raised his hands out in front of him. “Put that down, Noct.”

Noctis tilted his head and glanced at the dagger in his hands. “Why? Are you afraid of me, Ignis? There’s nothing I can do to you that can possibly compare to what you did to me.”

Noctis stepped forward.

The door burst open. Gladio’s form barreled into Noctis, one hand grasping the wrist of the hand holding the dagger. The other pinning him against the table. Noctis screamed and thrashed, the dagger slashed ineffectually. But as much as he fought he was no match for Gladio. The dagger tumbled out of his grip and without it, Noctis went limp. His eyes were wild and fearful. All he did was whimper and hang his head when Gladio stood him up.

Ignis saw then that there was a large cut on Gladio’s forehead as well across his chest. “Gods, did he–?” Ignis didn’t need to finish the question.

“What the fuck is going on, Ignis?”

Ignis looked at Noctis. He looked so very small—so frail and afraid. “This is my fault.”

* * *

The temple was unchanged from the last time Ignis had been there, but now it held a sinister air it had not had the last time. Ignis made his way to the chamber and the altar. Hardly any light found its way through the sun window. Ignis stood in the center of the wide room scarcely able to see the walls that surrounded him.

A cold wind blew through the room. He felt the king’s presence before he saw him.

“I didn’t expect to be seeing you again. Have you come to bargain for another life?” The immortal emerged from the dark. He smiled at Ignis. In the low light, his eyes appeared to glow yellow.

_“Accursed.”_

The ancient king stared at him then he threw back his head in a wicked laugh. He lifted his hand to his eyes, as though wiping away a tear.

“Ah, I knew you were a clever one. Very few who have visited me ever learned that name.”

“What have you done to Noctis? Why is he– What did you do to him?”

The Accursed tilted his head. “What did I do? I gave you what you wanted. ‘A life for a life.’ That was what was promised, and that is what I have delivered. You have his life, as you so desperately wanted, and so do I.”

“What?"

“Every year he is at your side, he must also spend at mine. I have been so lonely, see. Immortality can be so very boring. I admit I may have been a bit overzealous at times. When you are immortal, you tend to forget how breakable the human body can be. The mind, even more so.”

Ignis felt sick.

“Having a companion has been such a gift, and as a show of my gratitude, I decided to take that year in a single night. You did not lose a moment with your precious prince. He is truly a delight. I see why you desired him so greatly.”

“A year,” Ignis gasped. No wonder Noctis said he had betrayed him. Ignis had sold him to a daemon. He thought back to all the things Noctis had said—watching his father die, eyes in the darkness, what Gladio had told him he heard Noctis shout. “You tortured him. You destroyed his mind. You are a monster."

Ignis felt his daggers resting against his sides. He itched to draw them. To sink them into the daemon’s chest and free Noctis from his clutches. A futile endeavor, he knew, but maybe then he would feel less like he’d betrayed the man he loved.

“Here I thought name calling would be beneath you. If you aren’t satisfied with our arrangement, then just say the word and I will break our contract.” He raised a hand into the air, “With a snap of my fingers, your prince will be a corpse once more.”

Ignis lurched a step forward. “No!”

The Accursed hummed and tapped a finger against his chin. “You are unwilling to let him die but reject the conditions for allowing him to live. I see you’re struggling with this conundrum. Allow me to offer you a solution.” The daemon lifted a hand and manifest a pulsing orb of black-purple energy.

In the blink of an eye, the daemon was inches from him. The Accursed took his hand and placed the orb in his open palm. It turned to a vibrant purple flame that let off no heat. “A spell to wash away unwanted memories. I grant it to you, freely.”

Ignis stared at the fire in his hands. With this he could bring back the Noctis he knew—the Noctis that was kind and loving. Possibilities raced through his mind, futures where he and Noctis were happy again for the rest of their lives. But one terrible fact overshadowed them all. “You will still take him.”

“One year for every year he lives. Those are the terms, and I’ve grown fond of him. I couldn’t bear to give him up.”

The Accursed withdrew in a flash. He stood at the altar and placed a hand on the stone. “Just say the word, any time, anywhere, and your prince will be cold and lifeless once again. Or, take the spell and free him from the darkness of his own mind. You can keep him all the rest of your days, exactly how he was, and he will never know what you have done to him.”

Then the Accursed was gone. His presence completely absent, but his voice reverberated off the temple walls. “Return to your prince, then decide.”

Ignis watched the purple flame dancing in his hands. The spell flickered and dimmed until the flame extinguished, but he still felt its power beneath his skin.

Ignis climbed onto the back of the chocobo and began the journey back to Insomnia.

 


End file.
